


Tony's Tempting Tastes

by franscats



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:43:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3407684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/franscats/pseuds/franscats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While waiting to meet Jim at a diner, Blair fantasizes about food (and what he could do with the food).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tony's Tempting Tastes

**Author's Note:**

> This is slash  
> This was done for the Sentinel Thursday Challenge - #370 - Diner

“What can I get for you sweetie?" the waitress asked, walking over to the booth and holding up her little ordering pad. Hearing the question and turning back from his stare out the window, his eyes sweeping around the almost empty diner before settling on the waitress, Blair smiled at the woman, and got an answering one for his trouble.

She looked somewhere in her late forties with strawberry blonde hair that obviously came out of a bottle, if the white roots were anything to go by, and warm, light brown eyes. Her face had wrinkles that spoke of a hard life but her smile and voice were pleasant and welcoming

“I’m supposed to meet my friend here,” he told her. “I’ll have some coffee while I wait.”

“No problem and no rush. We’re not very busy, especially on a Tuesday night in this weather,” the woman indicated the pouring rain before turning and disappearing and Blair went back to his study of the street watching for his friend, a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth as he considered the order he wanted to place.

Tony’s Tempting Tastes was the name of the diner and Blair thought about what tastes would tempt him. “I’ll take one Jim Ellison, on a plate, make that a large silver tray and you can leave off the clothes. Maybe just a few seedless grapes around the sides.” Yeah that was the order he wanted but he didn’t dare suggest it. One, Jim would not be interested, two, Jim would throw him out, and three, Jim would probably kill him. Blair knew the third possibility wasn’t true; Jim would never physically hurt him. But Blair needed Jim the way he needed air, more than he needed air, and he would sooner be silent wishing to have the detective than lose him completely. Still the image of Jim laid out on a tray made more than his mouth water and he shifted uncomfortably as the waitress appeared coffee cup in hand.

“Thank you,” he nodded, and the waitress disappeared as Blair, still considering the fantasy, turned his attention back to the window watching for Jim. The first thing he would nibble on would be one of Jim’s nipples and the detective would arch his back trying to get more contact as Blair bit lightly and then sucked on the nub. Next... he stopped the fantasy, shaking his head clear, as his pants tightened uncomfortably. He had to stop this or he would be embarrassing himself very soon. Clearing his throat, he lifted the coffee cup and took a sip wondering how long until Jim got here. 

Blair’s car was on the fritz, again, and Jim had offered to pick him up at Rainier on his way home, but another TA offered to drop him here, halfway between the station and the university and much closer to the loft. Blair had called Jim and suggested the change in route and the possibility of dinner, and Jim had agreed. When he had mentioned the name of the diner to Jim, he had heard a chuckle as the detective agreed to meet him there. 

Tony’s Tempting Tastes, a ridiculous name, Blair thought, but he had heard that for what it was the food was pretty good and that it was a place that had a romantic reputation. He looked around, the diner didn’t seem romantic to him but for some reason couples ended up here a lot - maybe because of the name. It made people think of tempting things which might put people into a romantic mood. 

And the food was supposed to be decent. Of course, Blair would have to talk Jim into eating something that wasn’t loaded with grease but Blair was used to that. He tried to keep Jim’s diet at least semi balanced. He usually did the shopping and made sure that organic salads, fruits and vegetables were served, keeping in mind that Jim was a sentinel and his body reacted to foods in ways that others didn’t. 

Jim, of course, wanted donuts and processed foods, fast, easy, and full of preservatives and chemicals. Blair’s one saving grace was that because of Jim’s sensitive taste buds, he could no longer eat frozen dinners and packaged foods. Jim could taste the preservatives. Blair thanked the Lord for that because Jim Ellison’s diet had been appalling when Blair first moved into the loft. Not that it was all that much better now, Wonderburger being a prime example, but Blair kept an eye on the menus and subtly infiltrated healthier choices.

Still looking out the window, he smiled, his face lighting up in a way that anyone with eyes that could see beyond the end of their nose would realize indicated a lot more than friendship, when Blair saw the blue and white truck pull up and park.

Moments later, Jim Ellison ran in to the diner to get out of the deluge of rain and with unerring sentinel abilities, not even bothering to look around, made straight for the back booth where Blair sat.

“Hi Jim,” Blair smiled, and Jim returned the smile with a grin as he took off his jacket, shaking off the rain before dropping it on the seat beside him.

“Hey, Chief,” the detective looked around before picking up his menu. “So what’s good here?”

Jim always asked and Blair always played this balancing game, trying to get something healthy into his sentinel. “I hear the grilled chicken is good,” Blair offered, knowing he could gauge Jim’s mood by whether or not he took up the suggestion. Jim preferred a juicy hamburger or medium rare steak but if he took up Blair’s suggestion than he had an easy day and was mellow, if he vetoed it, Blair knew what kind of day he had had.

“Sounds good,” Jim answered, closing the menu and looking up. A minute later the attentive waitress appeared.

“Are you ready to order?” she asked and Jim nodded and smiled at her. Blair, seeing that smile, felt just a twinge of jealousy even though he knew Jim wasn’t flirting, just being nice, and the woman was a little too old for him. He wanted that smile directed his way. Hell, he wanted the feast he had been fantasizing about.

“I’ll have Jim,” he blurted out and then realizing what he had said, turned beet red as he continued, “I mean…I’ll have what Jim’s having.” 

Jim glanced his way, frowning with the puzzled expression Blair had seen when he tried to work out a case. “Chief, I haven’t ordered.”

Flustered, he looked down, fumbling with the menu, trying to pull his thoughts together and remember what he had recommended to Jim. “I’ll have the grilled chicken sandwich,” he answered, and the waitress nodded turning to Jim.

“I’ll have the same,” Jim agreed leaning forward as the woman left. Blair watching him saw Jim’s nostrils flare as he scented something, before the puzzled look returned, and he turned surveying the diner, before turning back to Blair and sitting back, with an almost smug smile. Blair just knew Jim had scented his arousal and he reached for his coffee cup so he wouldn’t have to look Jim in the eye. 

Sadly, he wondered if this would be their last dinner together.

“So Chief, you want me for dinner?” Jim asked, his voice quiet, and Blair who was in the process of picking up his coffee cup, dropped it, the contents spilling all over the table as Jim targeted his fantasy.

He jumped back away from the liquid as the waitress sped over napkins in hand. “Sorry, sorry,” he looked up at the woman and she smiled.

“No problem, I’ll just clean up and get you another cup,” she wiped the spill as the pair sat in silence and Blair tried to compose himself. 

The moment she was gone, Jim continued. “You didn’t answer me. You want me for dinner?”

“Yes,” Blair whispered, dreading the damnation he would see in Jim’s eyes if he looked up. Or worse the pity.

“Well I have to tell you, Sandburg, I don’t want you for dinner.” Blair felt his stomach drop at the statement and his chest constrict as his heart started to break. But then a finger caught his chin and he was forced to look up at Jim, seeing a smile. “But you know, I bet you’d make a sweet dessert.”

Slowly, a smile spread across Blair’s face, one that matched Jim’s, and then as his hand dropped from Blair’s chin, Jim caressed the anthropologist’s hand, resting on the table. Looking over and signaling the waitress, Blair watched the woman come over. “We’ll take the meals to go,” he announced.


End file.
